


dew drop.

by minoiresque



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, GIVE ME LIKE A MONTH I STILL NEED TO FINISH AWAKENING BRO!!!, IM ONLY ON THE GANGREL FIGHT AIOSUDFJNSKDFHBJDSF, bonding with... the fell dragon tactician??!??!?!??!??!?!?, idk abt the last one, slow burn ft lon'qu & iseul, some fighting mayb idk, what you can expect:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 06:11:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21231098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minoiresque/pseuds/minoiresque
Summary: that is the name you were blessed with. as fresh & new as morning dew.





	dew drop.

you are born of soft rosemary & precious white lilies, born from a world of fire & cruelty.    
you have an entire past before you that you have yet to know; you have an entire future ahead of you that you will mourn forever.    
do you know this, born on the same day as your other half?    
are you aware of the horrors & the joy to come?    
of course not. a helpless babe cannot yearn for what it cannot remember.

you grow up in a loved & worn house; paint frays at the edges,    
glass becomes a little more cloudier over time, but you cherish it with all of your heart.    
with the laughter of an older brother & the visits of an older sister, the kind guidance of a mother, & the support of a village who understood family.    
you don’t have much; but it is always enough for you. you are content & you are happy…    
besides, with an inn to take care of, with something always on your mind,    
you don’t have much time to yearn! it is peaceful…

but peace can never last for long. with rising threats & desperation tinged in the    
back corners of a mind, the gentle life she knew is ripped away from her.    
gone are sweeping meadows & ripe harvest; flame & ash remain in raider’s wake.    
their only hope is the water that flows through the well. it saves them once.    
they must strive to ensure it will save them forevermore.    
it is that desperation that haunts you; the cries & the pain & the aftermath.

you will strive to save the rest.    
you have no magic in you; none like the gentle healing provided by some.    
so instead you burn through books of herbs & tonics, buy the right materials    
from the right merchants. set up the spare room as your apothecary,    
offer your help for free.    
you study to learn how to save, to save just one, to give back to    
a family that gave you so much. your village may have suffered    
for years without a doctor; but you decide    
they will suffer no longer, as much as you can help.

the years blur by; another fire, another well, another idea.    
your village progresses to a town to a merchant haven; threats are still threats,    
& danger will always loom. but you must progress to work past them,    
to be quicker & wiser & clever.    
you are a city of water, of stone & scars.    
you have blossomed into a girl both hardened & soft;    
perhaps a rose with it’s thorns still unplucked? but that    
remains too poetic for your taste; maybe you are    
sand struck by lightning, melted into glass. you have simply taken what    
was thrown at you & moved on.

you bear the weight of the attacks upon your back,    
forever hidden beneath cotton blouse & braided hair.

do you bear it alone? … more often then not.    
with an older brother who seeks battle & glory,    
with an older sister off on the exalt’s whims,    
with a mother too scarred herself,    
you silence your cries & return to work.    
with both off, it’s up to you to keep to the chores. you clean the stables,    
you wash the fruits. you head to the merchant square & you tend to your herbs & leaves.   
you tend to the weary, the hurt & the scarred. it’s the least you can offer,    
& besides… there is always something to do, after all.

then, a letter. two, four, they multiply.    
of your brother joining the prince’s band of knights,    
of your sister to ask how things have been.    
the former is exciting & hearty & cheery; the latter is serious & mournful.    
& yet, a glimmer of hope & happiness within each, no matter the contents.    
you smile at each one; it is almost like it used to be.

your brother has joined out of skill; not for being a mercenary,    
but for defending a village side by side with the prince & his knights.    
& to pursue adventure; was that not his dream?   
he will surely taste it with them, he writes. the chilly winds of ferox call your name,    
he teases, & you laugh by the midnight candle at his words.    
yet you still worry; has battle & death hardened his heart? how much does he regret,    
how much has he lost? 

your sister did not give you much; her duty to the exalt required so.    
whisked away as a child, yet you do not mourn for her.    
no; in some way, she has always been with you. has always had a place in your soul.    
the halls of nobility sing with age, she writes. you would prosper there,    
she adds, & you can feel the truth bleeding from each word. you flush beneath    
twilight sky at her words.    
yet you still worry; is her burden too great to bear on her own?    
what does she need to confess, what does she need help with?

& then… the threat of war reaches its peak.    
raids grow more desperate & merchant too quick to leave;    
even the merchant girl who bleeds other worldly knowledge has bid her goodbyes.    
you are desperate; desperate for the slightest bit of good, the hope of better news.    
you struggle with the weight of the only trusted doctor,    
the only one who many have bared their deepest shame to;    
it is a blessing & a curse, that the village is so stubborn.    
yet you are frustrated with this life; you are no longer content, no longer so happy.    
you cannot bear the weight of this alone.    
you want something good, something happy, something joyful.    
something that will make bleak skies turn bright…

your wish is not fulfilled. the gods & goddesses of old laugh at you.

your sister comes home out in distress & tears;    
her beloved exalt dead before her very eyes.    
you understand the bond between them; an older sister, a caring mentor, a beloved guide.   
you know your sister regrets & berates herself; yet you cannot speak amidst your own shock.   
it takes ages for her to speak again; & when she does, it is the last you see of her.

your brother has ceased to write; does he mourn, does he cry?    
you understand that he holds the shepherds dear; is he as affected as them?    
you wish you could hold him, comfort him. lay upon him compassionate words    
& the promises of better days.    
but could you, if you could, when you can’t even believe in that yourself?

you are torn between a crumbling sun & a withering moon,    
& neither future holds any good for your life.

but then…

is it rage filled twin that prompts you to look,    
or the merchant who carries the hunt of other worlds with her?    
you cannot remember.    
the girl who speaks in shadows holds clever tongue & sharp eyes;    
the other half looks upon you with neutral face yet hardened gaze.    
what is your history with either, you wonder? both have prodded at your memory,    
asked you to remember things you aren’t sure you can.    
they ask of three trials, made just for you,    
for you to complete & come home with something new.

& so you do. while your brother fights as a soldier of the exalt to be,    
as your sister cries burning tears of vengeance, you set your eyes upon a    
task frighteningly familiar & terrifyingly not.

you complete them, & you remember.

& perhaps,  _ that is the worst part of it. _

**Author's Note:**

> ooook so check back on this! i haven't finished awakening! you probably know from the tags!


End file.
